Eros's Tribute
by HOLLOWpoint headers
Summary: A kind of sad one shot about the Marauder Era. Sirius's point of view on Lily and James's relationship and his own role in it's foundation and progress. Summery isn't great because I don't want to give away what happens.


Author's Note:

This one's a little, well cute but not how you would expect it to be. It's really sad too but whatever. I feel like one shots that are just about people hooking up are somewhat pointless. Sorry if I make you cry or something, I hope you like it anyways.

**Eros's Tribute**

The first time I saw her I heard bells tolling in my mind. A chorus of angels with the sweetest voices sang with the strength of a wind all around. I still believe it's impossible no one else heard it. She was everything my childish mind had envisioned when I had described my wedding day to my cousin and best friend, Celia. She was instantly the reason I lived, the reason I breathed. She was my God, my idol.

I was young then. I didn't know what to do. I walked right up to her and told her she was pretty. She stared at me. I told her I loved her. She stared at me. I asked her to marry me. She finally reacted, "No." When she walked away I thought I would die on the spot. Cupid, Eros, or whatever name you give to the fickle God of Love, had shot me straight through the heart. Unfortunately for me, he must have found my agony entertaining for after that day he would test me endlessly. He tested me for seven years.

I prayed then. I was foolish enough to believe that if I prayed hard enough to a God I didn't believe in someone would answer my prayers. I didn't have faith, and they weren't answered. I prayed whenever I said her name. _Lily…_ It rolled liltingly; softly along the tongue the first time I said it. It was a prayer with in itself, a song, a spell, a hymn, all at once.

The next time we met I asked her if she liked me. She said she didn't. I asked if she hated me. She said she did. I asked her what I was doing wrong but she just looked at me for a moment. I think she may have had a glimmer of conscience as she hesitated before speaking, "Everything."

A month later I asked her what she liked. What were her hobbies? Her friends? Her favorite color; her favorite animal. Even her favorite day of the year, not including holidays. She wouldn't answer so I watched. I asked everyone, I was everywhere. I gathered all the information I could.

She liked forget-me-not flowers and June 12. She liked pancakes but not waffles and she never drank coffee. She preferred the number zero to all others, which I thought was odd. She never wore yellow clothes but wore the same pair of pale yellow, beat up sneakers at least once a week. She wrote endlessly in her diary but had it charmed so that no one else could read it. She once asked me to stop being so "foolish" during a History of Magic class so I took notes for every class the rest of the year. I heard her quote Shakespeare once so I wrote her twenty-three sonnets that I never to showed her. When she thought no one was around she would go out in a thunderstorm and sit in the rain for hours just watching the lightning overheard. She visited the house elves every Sunday just to say hi but she wouldn't take any food from them. Once I saw her day dreaming in divination and vowed to never pay attention in that class again. She doodled on the cover of all her notebooks and listened to muggle music. She was a grouch in the morning but she pretended to be nice. She just sat and listened to birds sometimes and once spent an entire afternoon at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest with raw beef, hoping to attract thresals. She scowled whenever I asked her out but tried not to smile whenever I told her I love her.

As I grew older so did my love. With each passing day I watched her growth. I saw her first crush. I saw her first boyfriend. I saw her first heart break. I saw her first break a heart besides mine. I loved her despite the pain. I loved her despite the others and despite all reason. She was my fatal poison and my elixir of life.

I persuaded her into an unsteady friendship once we were older. I stopped asking her out and just admired from behind guarded eyes. I analyzed every boy she thought she loved and decided they weren't worthy of her, my Goddess. No one was worthy of her, not even me. No one but one. The one person I could not let her love, the one person I had to let her love. He who I knew was more worthy of her then me, the one person I could not bear to lose her to, my best friend.

My prayers were answered, but too late. I told her to love him, my closest friend, my greatest rival, and I watched as her eyes fell.

It was then she loved me back. She told me she loved me. When I had finally given her up she loved me. For a moment I thought I would cry for happiness. I hugged her close to me and breathed her sweet scent again, preparing myself to break her heart. To do unto her what she had to me, Eros's tribute, heartbreak. I called her my closest friend, I told her I loved her but not in that way. I hid the truth behind my empty black eyes, the truth that I in fact loved her more deeply and more passionately then she could have ever loved me. It was then I gave up love, I gave up happiness, I gave up my need to live.

I watched her after that day. I was her shadow again as I had once been, a silent observer of her pain. I saw her anguish in her eyes, like a mirror of my own. I can't count the number of nights I sat awake at the foot of her stairs and listened to her tears, resisting the temptation to go to her, to comfort her, to love her. He loved her more, he deserved her more; I deserved my pain but I would have relived all my most desolate moments to relieve her of hers.

The most painful, the most desperate, the most incredibly agonizing time was when I saw her heal. I had known she hadn't loved me so strongly as I had her, but to see her in the mornings with a bright smile reflecting her restful night was pure torture. It only took a few weeks, longer, in fact, then I had expected. My tears coursed silently down my cheek but I hid them so he would not see, he wouldn't have gone to her if he had known of my attachment.

And then when she fell in love. I knew he would win her over; he was perfect for her. He was everything I couldn't have been. He comforted her in her sorrow and he laughed with her in her delight. He wiped away her tears when she cried and kissed her sweetly when she smiled.

The bittersweet inner turmoil shredded my heart with misery and filled it with joy. The true trial was on her wedding day. I lay awake at night and could barely breath in day. I thought of the words that I knew would turn her heart, those that would rekindle the childish passion she had once felt for me. I knew with utmost certainty that I could have had her, even in my darkest hour. But I resisted, I was the best man on their day and I smiled. When I saw her brightly lit eyes when she told him, "I do," I knew I had made the right choice.

The child was his father, that was apparent as soon as he was born. But I saw her in his eyes. When she let me hold him I looked into those eyes and I saw the truth. I looked up to her and she was smiling sweetly, I saw that she knew the truth. Her gaze thanked me for suffering for her sake. She was happier then I could have made her and I was suddenly as blissfully happy as she. I would always love her and so I would never mourn again, how wrong I was.

It seems like days later when it was in fact days, weeks, and months later. Her perfect presence was taken from the world, was taken from me. I never felt pain like that before. No _crucio_ curse could have hurt that badly, no wound that slowly bled out over days. Shortly afterwards they took me in for the murderer. I knew the truth and I hunted him down, the betrayer of my love and my closest friend. I couldn't kill him but I warned him. I made sure he would never forget. I made another resolution that day. I resolved that I would never care for anyone again, how wrong I was.

When I saw him I knew who he was. I wanted to speak to him immediately, to tell him everything that I knew I could never really tell him. He was wholly James, wholly Lily, and wholly his own self. He was Eros's tribute, the result of so much love and so much sorrow. He will never know the truth of his parents' history; he will never know how much he is my own son.

A/N: That was really sad, but I feel better to have written it. That was in my mind for a while and I'm really glad I finally got it on paper, so to speak. Hope you liked it, and please review.


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